


What is a Legacy?

by yunmin



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Force Ghost Luke Skywalker, Found Family, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Gen, Grief/Mourning, In which Wedge is Eliza Hamilton, Lightsaber Training, M/M, Mon Mothma is dead, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Wedge is an archivist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22318654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: After the Battle of Crait and the death of Luke Skywalker, Rey struggles to work out what to do next. There's so much about the Jedi she still doesn't know. She knows she has to rebuild, fix the Lightsaber and burn the First Order to the ground, but where does she start?The answer, it turns out, is on a quiet mid-rim planet, with a man named Wedge Antilles. Wedge might not be a Jedi, but he travelled with one for ten years. And with a basement full of Jedi artefacts, he might just turn out to be exactly what Rey needs.
Relationships: Rey & Luke Skywalker, Wedge Antilles & Rey, Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker, Wedge Antilles/Mon Mothma
Comments: 29
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post-TLJ story written before The Rise of Skywalker came out and therefore contains no spoilers or references to The Rise of Skywalker. Updates, hopefully, will come weekly. There are six chapters and an epilogue.
> 
> Thanks to the Rogue Squad discord, who I believe sparked the idea of Wedge as an archivist and therefore started me on this fic, and to sassysnowperson for cheerleading and looking over the draft with kind words.

It’s been two days since Crait. Two days since the Resistance’s last desperate stand; two days since Luke Skywalker took his last breath in his valiant effort to defend them. Rey isn’t sure what her path ahead is, but she knows there is so much more out there for her to learn. It’s why she took the books from Luke, the sacred texts of the Jedi. Knowledge is power.

Rey needs all the power she can get her hands on if she is to end Kylo Ren and the First Order. As she intends to.

Whatever secrets the texts hold, they keep them well. Glancing through them has revealed nothing to Rey. She doesn’t have enough information to begin unlocking the secrets within. Luke didn’t teach her enough. She needs to find someone else to teach her the basics, the fundamentals that Luke failed to impart to her.

Rey places the book in her hands back in the drawer. There’s no use worrying about that now.

“You know, I was wondering where those ended up.”

The familiar voice echoes through the empty room in the Falcon. In truth, Rey has been waiting for him to make an appearance. For all he was content to fade into the Force, the galaxy wasn’t done with him so easily.

Rey turns her head and fixes the ghost of Luke Skywalker with a steely glare.

“I don’t think you get to have an opinion on such matters,” she replies. “You know, being a ghost and all.”

A hitched laugh catches in Luke’s throat as he considers his response. It makes Rey consider the ghost in front of her again.

This Luke isn’t the bitter old man she met on Ahch-To, who was ready to let the Galaxy burn. He’s not the hero who came to the rescue of the fractured remnant of the Resistance either. There’s a softness to him that wasn’t there before. His entire character has mellowed. Rey wonders if this is the man she could have met if circumstances were different. The Luke she knew had faced such unending tragedy.

“I think you are right about that,” he says. “I think I’ve forfeited my opinion to a lot of things, especially where you are concerned.”

“You can’t stop me rebuilding the Jedi,” Rey declares, needing to make that clear.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Chastened, Luke runs a hand through his hair. Hair that is back to grey, rather than the dark brown it had been when he fought Kylo Ren. A few gold strands left in it show the boy he once was. “A … a couple of people have spent the past few days talking some sense into me.”

Rey stares at him, utterly befuddled.

Luke mistakes her bafflement and asks: “It has been days, right? I didn’t screw that one up as well?”

“It’s been two,” she answers, confused about this conscientious version of him. “People? You’re a ghost.”

“Well, it’s mostly been Obi-Wan and Master Yoda, but my mother got a few words in as well. She made her disapproval of my choices quite clear. Sent me back to make sure you got what you need.”

“And what is it you think I need from you? The last time I asked for your help, you didn’t seem to keen to give it.”

Luke stands up. He walks over to where Rey is sitting and takes one of the books out the drawer. “The greatest mistake I made was thinking that I could rebuild the Jedi Order on my own. I don’t want you to make that same mistake.”

“I’m not alone,” Rey insists. The Resistance may be small, but everyone in it is behind her. She’s not on her own. “I have Finn and Leia and Poe and the entire Resistance.”

Luke looks at the cover of the book, considering the ancient text. It seems to weigh heavy in his hands. “When I stood where you are now, trying to work out how I rebuilt this ancient order out of nothing, I had someone beside me. He helped me find my way. He knows as many secrets as I do about how the Jedi worked. He’s a good man. If there’s anyone who could help you decipher all this, work out how to rebuild the Jedi into something new … I think it’s him. You should go talk to him.”

* * *

Wedge Antilles looks down at his datapad, checking his incoming messages. It’s been a long couple of weeks. Following the destruction of the Hosnian System—the centre of Galactic power, of Galactic government—he, and his staff, have worked themselves to the bone to discover what has been lost as a result of the destruction of the system’s seven planets, and if there’s anything that can be salvaged.

Things aren’t as bad as they could have been. Lessons have been learnt in the thirty five years since the destruction of Alderaan. An understanding has been reached amongst archivists, the preservers of Galactic history, that the system requires redundancy.

The Rebellion Archive on Breshva III, owned and maintained by Wedge, was part of that system. Wedge specialised in Rebellion history and artefacts, preserving memories that were all too quickly being lost. In addition, he played a part in a galactic network of archives, balancing and sharing their most important information between them.

Since the destruction of the Hosnian System—taking one of the network’s archives with it, and a significant number of historical artefacts with it—Wedge had been caught up in ensuring that redundancy held.

There are no new messages on his datapad. No questions as to whether he had this artefact, or knew that piece of information. They’ve held up remarkably well, all things considered. There are items they’ve lost. But for almost all of them, there are scans, holographs, paintings and written accounts of those items elsewhere.

“Looks like we’re all clear for now,” Wedge says, looking up from his desk. “I’m going to go and check on everything we have in the basement.” Wedge turns to the woman with dark hair across from him. “Hallis, can you hold the fort for me?”

Hallis Saper, a documentarian-turned-preservationist and Wedge’s second at the archive, nods. “You do what you need to do.”

Wedge heads for the basement. Alone.

He unlocks the heavy door and heads down the steps. At the bottom, he flicks on a light switch. He knows this part of the archive instinctually, the entirety of it left to his own keeping.

Ten years spent travelling with Luke Skywalker. Ten years spent trying to unearth the secrets of the Jedi Order, ten years spent trying to piece together what they’d found to paint a fractured picture of the Jedi, one that the Empire had tried so hard to erase. Luke had used the knowledge they’d found to start his school and Wedge had taken the rest and kept it safe.

There were some secrets that the Galaxy still wasn’t ready for yet.

Luke might have disagreed with Wedge over the best way to train a new generation of Jedi, but after all their years searching, he understood the need for documentation and preservation of the facts. Even after they’d separated, Wedge would still receive shipments of Jedi artefacts. Or missives on Jedi philosophy. Wedge had taken it all and filed it, ready to hand to over to the new generation when the time was right.

The destruction of the Jedi Training Academy, followed by Luke’s disappearance, had disrupted that plan. At the time, Wedge had been preoccupied. He’d had other, far more important, things on his plate. But others had scavenged the ruins, dug into the ashes of burning buildings, and most of them had brought their findings to Wedge. There’s an irony, he thinks, that the last keeper of the secrets the Jedi left in the Galaxy is a force-null Corellian pilot.

Wedge makes a left turn into the archival space. His hand skims the shelf of a bookcase, filled with texts and datapads and books; the fragments of a once great people. Wedge had done the work piecing what he and Luke had found back together, sorting out matching segments and differing viewpoints. Ultimately, he’s not sure what good it did, how much use it actually was.

There’s a stack of sealed crates before him, containing the personal effects that went unclaimed after the Jedi Training Academy burnt. Luke’s things are amongst them, and Wedge has yet to summon the fortitude needed to go through them. He’s had enough grief to sort through.

There are holocrons and message recordings, all currently useless to Wedge; they can only be played with the force. Wedge still looks over the shelf. He knows what’s on most of them by heart. He’s watched them back dozens of times and memorised their contents. He picks up a silver blue pyramid, turning it over in his hands. It contains the last message from the Jedi Temple, the warning from Obi-Wan Kenobi, the promise of a new hope rising.

He passes his thumb over the rough join of the seal. Luke was supposed to be that hope, and yet...

Wedge places the pyramid back where it belongs. He can’t linger on the past. Luke did what he thought best—even if Wedge had never agreed with what that was—and what is done is done. They have to move forward. Luke might have been the brightest beacon of hope, but he wasn’t the only light that shone in the darkness.

A little way along the wall is a deep, solid chest. Wedge undoes the lock and lifts the heavy lid. There are eleven slim cylinders inside, each individually wrapped in cloth. Eleven lightsabers of fallen Jedi. Each of them is different. Each bears the mark of the person who built it, the individual touches that made it theirs. Wedge isn’t sure if they’ll ever find their way into new hands. They might not be a fit for anyone new. There are two kyber crystals in the box too, tucked into a small bag. Wedge hopes that one day they’ll find their place. Maybe they’ll see the start of a new age, one where everything will get better.

Wedge unwraps each lightsaber, checking for cracks in the casings, leaks in the power cells. Slowly and carefully he ignites them, feeling the thrum of each blade in turn. To wield a lightsaber skilfully and safely in the heat of battle requires years of practice and no small amount of skill with the force, but they can still be used by mortal men. Hand to hand combat was never Wedge’s strength, but he’d learnt how to fight with a blade in those long ten years. By the end, he’d made an acceptable sparring partner.

He twirls the blue blade he has in his hand around, a three-hundred and sixty degree rotation. It’s the same blue as Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber, Luke’s first. Even the grip style is similar, though not a match. They’re not sure who made this blade, who it belonged to before the galaxy fell apart. Maybe it was an age-mate of Anakin’s. Maybe that had been the style that year. Or maybe it was just a coincidence.

Blade in hand, Wedge swings it outwards, across his chest, moving through forms learnt through long repetition with Luke. The blade sizzles and thrums with power. It’s captivating. Wedge could lose himself in this, in the memory of mornings spent on deserted, lonely planets, just him and Luke moving together through exercises they only half knew at that point.

“Wedge?”

Hallis’s voice, calling from the top of the stairs, cuts through Wedge’s quiet contemplation.

Wedge kills the lightsaber blade with a quick thumb of the button. “Yes Hallis?” He answers back, raising his voice so it carries across the basement.

“Leia Organa’s calling on the line. She says she needs to talk to your about something. She says it’s important.”


	2. Chapter 2

From the moment Rey steps inside Wedge Antilles’ house, she’s struck by how inviting it is. After Jakku, the First Order’s ships, the Resistance’s base and the wilds of Ahch-To, she’s finally in a space designed for a comfortable life. It’s a home.

She hadn’t expected, when she mentioned going to meet Wedge to General Organa, to be here so soon. But Leia had agreed with Luke’s suggestion. Wedge wasn’t just Luke’s old friend, he was an old friend of hers too. She knew where he was—or at least, where he was likely to be. After the Resistance settled in a temporary base on Yavin IV, a covert call was placed.

Rey travelled with Leia and Chewie to the quiet, mid-rim planet Wedge calls home. It’s been three years since Leia last saw Wedge, and she wants to see how he is. He deserves to be told about the news of Luke’s death in person. It’s the first thing they do when they arrive. The shock is clear on Wedge’s face, much as he tries to hide it. Luke’s death is a blow he feels to his very core.

Luke had used the words ‘old friend’ to describe Wedge, but Rey is starting to wonder if it’s there’s more to it than that.

Wedge guides her around his home, pointing out the kitchen, the living space, the spare bedroom that will belong to her for the next month or so, as Wedge imparts all the knowledge he gained during those ten years rebuilding the Jedi Order to her. He gives her some time to stow her things. Rey has never had so much space, and the few things she has—that have been gifted to her—only take up one drawer.

Ever the scavenger, Rey still investigates what lurks in the rest. One drawer is full of bed linens, sheets and towels; seldom used spares for any visitors Wedge has. A few more are empty. The bottom drawer of the dresser yields something more interesting. Rey opens it and a palpable wave of grief floods out.

Examining the contents closer, Rey finds it full of carefully folded white day dresses, crisp white nightdresses and two white dress robes. She wonders who they belong too, and why Wedge has kept them. Wedge is the only occupant of the house. She examines wardrobe in the corner and finds another white dress hanging there. This one is beautifully made, with a wide neck and lace sleeves and a gorgeous flowing skirt. Rey doesn’t dare touch it for fear of leaving a mark.

“Rey?”

Rey closes the wardrobe quickly before Wedge appears back at the door.

“All sorted?” he asks, looking her over. She’s still in the same clothes she was wearing when she arrived. “You can get changed, if you want. The refresher has a sonic and a water shower—you could use either.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Alright. Come downstairs, I’ll make us some food, and we can talk. I want to know what you managed to learn from Luke.”

Rey follows Wedge down the stairs, along the hallway, through to the living space. Leia is sat on one of the sofas, quietly consulting a datapad. She’s the only one there; R2D2 and Chewie must have disappeared.

“Give me a sec,” Wedge says, gesturing for Rey to take a seat. He turns to Leia. “Where’s Chewbacca?”

“Investigating the state of your kitchen cupboards; he seemed pleasantly surprised,” Leia replies.

“It’s been a long time since the Rebellion, Leia. I have learnt a thing or two since.” Wedge hovers in the doorway until Rey is sat down, and then disappears.

Leia watches him go, then turns to Rey. “Wedge’s cooking talents—or lack of them, so I should say—were legendary in the Rebellion. But, as he says, it has been thirty years.”

Rey—who has learnt that her standards for edible food are significantly lower than the galaxy at large—doesn’t pay much attention. She’ll happily take whatever food Wedge offers. It’s kind of him, she thinks, to even offer. Instead, her attention is drawn around the room. The furnishings are soft, and warm muted colours are offset by touches of bright blue. It’s a soothing room to be in.

Opposite her and Leia is an armchair, just right for one. A small table is beside it. There’s an empty mug left there—Wedge’s, Rey presumes—from before they arrived. He’d probably been enjoying a relaxing morning before they’d thrown everything off. Behind that is a holoframe, a single picture projected up. It’s of Wedge and a woman Rey doesn’t recognise.

She recognises the white dress she’s wearing in it. It’s the one Rey found upstairs in a wardrobe. She looks beautiful in it. Wedge is dressed nicely as well, with a smile on his face so genuine Rey’s heart almost hurt to look at it. They look so happy in the holo, the woman seated, Wedge standing beside her. A bouquet of flowers rests in the woman’s lap.

It’s a wedding holograph, Rey belatedly realises.

It can’t have been taken that long ago; Wedge as she sees him now doesn’t look that different to the one in the holo. A little more worn, with lines of grief on his face that he can’t erase, perhaps. Grief over whoever the other person in the holo is.

“That’s former Chancellor Mon Mothma,” Leia cuts in. She must have been watching Rey and seen where her attention was drawn. “She and Wedge got married, after the war, after he went travelling with Luke. She died three years ago.”

Rey’s heard the name. Once the Chancellor of the New Republic, the leader of the Rebellion, her name hadn’t been spoken in a favourable light on Jakku. Rey doesn’t have enough information on her to form an opinion. But one thing is clear: Wedge loved her very much.

Wedge appears again, Chewbacca following him. They’re carrying a couple of plates of food between them. The plates are sat down on the coffee table in front of Rey, who, for politeness’s sake, allows Leia to take a sandwich and a few pieces of fruit before taking her share. Wedge retreats to his armchair.

“So,” he says, once he’s settled. “Luke’s dead. He left the mantle of the Jedi to you.” Wedge folds his hands over, fiddling. “Did he actually tell you anything that might be useful, in reestablishing the Jedi Order?”

“Not really,” Rey replies. She has the books. And Luke has guided her to Wedge. “I think this comes first.”

She unclips the broken lightsaber from her belt and lays it on the table in front of her. She’s tinkered with it, since it’s destruction on the Supremacy, but she’s yet to get a spark of life out of it.

“That’s Luke’s old lightsaber.” Wedge raises an eyebrow. “Where on earth did you find that?”

“Maz Kanata’s had it all these years,” Leia chimes in.

“Maz?” Wedge shakes his head. “She never would let us look at half her secrets. Guess I know why now.” Wedge reaches for the blade, turns it over in his hands. “Is the crystal intact?”

“I think so.”

“Then it’s fixable. I can help you with that. Or, I can find you another blade, if the legacy of this one is too much—frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was cursed. I’ve got another one just like it, as a matter of fact. Or you could build your own. That’s a right of passage, for a Jedi. As far as we can tell, lightsaber blades were never intended to be passed down through generations.”

“I’d like to try and repair this one,” Rey says. If only to spite Kylo Ren, who wants the darn thing so much. “At least at first. Then ... then you can teach me how to make my own.”

Wedge smiles. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

It’s been a long day. Wedge had known it would be, from the moment Leia Organa proposed to bring him a force sensitive young woman, and Wedge agreed to be her guardian.

When the day ends, Wedge finds himself sitting at the edge of the lake on the border of his home. It’s a ritual he does at the end of most of his long days. Finds some peace and quiet, and heads down to the grave of the woman he’d loved so much.

“Hey Mon,” he says, greeting her as he always does.

Some days, he wonders what she’d think about the fact that he still comes and talks to her. She’d probably laugh, gently, and then smile that sad, fond smile she’d had so much towards the end. She never wanted Wedge to wallow in his grief. He’s tried not to. He hasn’t always succeeded in that, but he’s tried.

And it wasn’t like Mon hadn’t consulted her own dead, in her time. Bail Organa, Padmé Amidala, Mon had looked to her friends who were gone too soon for guidance.

Just as Wedge does now.

“Luke’s dead.”

It feels dumb, in a way, talking to one of the loves of his life about the other. But Mon had always, _always_ , understood what Luke had meant to him. She’d known that all those years Luke and Wedge has spent together still counted, that there was a part of Wedge that would always care for Luke.

“He’s not the only one,” Wedge continues. He’d asked Leia for a full list of the dead, intending to ensure that they were known and remembered. Glancing over the list made for difficult reading. “The Resistance took heavy losses. They lost Ackbar. And Amilyn Holdo—do you remember her? She was a junior legislator, back in the day, came up with Leia. She sacrificed herself to buy the Resistance some time. Real gutsy move.”

Wedge had only met Amilyn Holdo a few times. They’d moved in different circles. He doesn’t think she liked him much. He wishes, now, he’d known her better.

“There are so many dead.”

To be honest, Wedge is glad that Mon isn’t here to see it. She’d spent her life trying to build a better galaxy. Trying to reform the Republic; trying to limit the worst excesses of the Empire. And when that hadn’t worked she’d tried to build something anew from the ashes of the old system she helped burn down.

“Luke left a girl behind,” Wedge continues. “Her name’s Rey. She spent her life scavenging for scrap on Jakku, going all over that lonely rust bucket, finding a living in all the ships that were shot down. You always used to say it was the Republic’s duty to clean that planet up and I guess the scavengers decided to do it themselves.”

“She’s a Jedi. Or she wants to be. Luke ...” Wedge’s voice catches in his throat. Rey hadn’t painted a kind picture of Luke in his last days. She’d spoken about a bitter, broken man, and Wedge hurts to think about him that way. “Luke was too broken to do it properly. So it falls to me. You always said I was going to need a project, when you were gone. I think the universe has found me one.”

That seems to be what the universe thinks Wedge is good for. Picking up the pieces that Luke left behind.

“She’s a good girl,” Wedge says. “You’d like her. She’s got spark. Isn’t gonna take any shit from anyone.”

Wedge tries to picture it. Mon would like Rey, she’d appreciate her sharpness. He’s not entirely sure Rey would like Mon back—not at first, at least. Mon was a cautious, guarded woman, who’d spent so many years reaching desperately for a compromise. Too aware of the shades of grey in the galaxy; always reaching for negotiation and a peaceful settlement. Rey still saw in shining black and white, wanting decisive action, and for now, that was a good thing.

“I miss you,” he says and feels his whole body ache with the loss.

The trees beside the lake rustle as a gentle breeze blows through. It’s peaceful here. Even if Mon wasn’t buried out here, Wedge thinks he’d probably come here to talk to her. He can let the world, the galaxy, fall away.

The snap of a twig underfoot behind him brings Wedge back to earth.

He turns to find Leia Organa, stopped in her tracks. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she says, apologetic. “I just wanted to pay my respects to Mon, properly. I’ve been back to her memorial on Chandrila a few times, but it’s never seemed quite right.”

“Come.” Wedge gestures to the ground beside him. “She’d be glad you’re here.”

The last time Wedge and Leia had seen each other, three years ago and change, had been at Mon’s memorial service. It had been a wretched day. Mon’s legacy had been on full display, not an ounce of the woman Wedge had known and loved so dearly. As her grieving widower, Wedge had been expected to attend, show his grief for the galaxy to see.

“I always forget she’s here,” Leia says, her eyes fixed on the simple stones that mark Mon’s burial place. “I’m glad she is though. I’m glad she’s resting somewhere peaceful.”

Leia’s dead, Wedge knows, do not have peaceful resting places. They are scattered across the galaxy, blasted over vast distances by the white hot implosion of a dying planet. “It was one of the last things she asked for,” Wedge says. “To be buried here.”

Those last days had stretched on and on. Every day, they’d woken, not knowing if that day would be Mon’s last. Mon had been fading for years, the illness taking her slowly, piece by piece. Eventually, she’d died in Wedge’s arms in the early morning. But not before she’d made him promise to keep living on.

Her wish to be buried at home hadn’t gone over well with the New Republic or the Chandrilan Government. She’d written it into her will. The document had been made public for all the galaxy to see, her last words stating her final wishes. Wedge had got to bury her at home and in his grief he’d dug her grave himself, throwing himself into the work, striving for his limbs to ache just as much as his heart did.

“You always did do right by her,” Leia replies.

Mon’s memorial service had been two days later. Wedge had still been a wreck. Leia, by that time, had been persona-non-grata with the New Republic, but she’d come anyway. There had been a private gathering following the torturous public display—led by Wedge, supported by his pilots, attended by those who had actually known her; Leia, Ackbar, Hera Syndulla, Sinjir Rath Velus. They’d toasted the woman who had always tried to make the right choices, always tried to make the Galaxy a better place.

“Too bad the Galaxy couldn’t do the same,” she continues.

“We can still make things right,” Wedge says. “We can’t give up hope. If your Resistance is full of bright young things like Rey, there’s a chance for us.”

Leia smiles. “Oh, I’ve got a couple stashed away. A few good officers. One dashing daredevil pilot who’ll do anything for the cause.”

“Can’t go wrong with a few of those in your corner.” Wedge remembers the days when he was a dashing daredevil pilot who would have done anything for the cause. It seems like a very long time ago now.

He looks over at Leia. She wears the years well and Wedge can still see the stubborn, angry young woman who’d sparked the flame of the Rebellion to life. She looks back. “You’re right about that. We’ll rebuild. Out of the ashes, something better will come. I have to believe that.”

For the Galaxy’s sake, Wedge hopes Leia is right.


	3. Chapter 3

“So what’s it like over there?” Finn asks over the comm unit Rey’s been gifted. Wedge had pressed it into her hands and told her it was important for her to stay in touch with her friends.

Rey stretches out lazily on her bed. “Comfy,” she says, laying back amongst the various pillows on her bed. She’s never known luxury like it. “What about you?”

“We made it safe to the new base. General Celchu and Rogue Squadron are now full fledged members of the Resistance.” Finn shrugs his shoulders. “I wouldn’t call it comfy here, but at least we have some more space than we did on the Falcon. We’ll be able to find a way forward here.”

“I wish I could be with you. It’s nice here, but it’s not the same as being with you.”

“You’ll be back with us soon,” Finn says. “You’re doing important work.” Finn’s features pull together, almost a frown, as he ponders his next question. “What’s Wedge like? The Rogues say one thing, Poe says another, I don’t know what to make of him.”

Rey thinks of the man who has welcomed her into his home. He’s been nothing but good to her. For the first time in her life, she has someone willing to answer all the questions she asks, without an agenda. When he’d learned of what Kylo Ren had told her of her parents he’d been horrified. He’d offered to try to find out more. It could be that Kylo Ren was right, they were nothing, who sold her for drinking money—or it could be that the story is a whole lot more complicated than that.

“He’s kind,” Rey settles on. It’s the honest truth. “He knows a lot, and he wants to help me out.” It ranks him above every other caregiver she’s has in her life. Wedge has no time for mystery or pretence. “Why, what have you heard?”

“He was an ace pilot, right? One of the Rebellion’s best. The Rebellion sent someone in to recruit him before the Rebellion was even properly formed, he was there from the beginning.” Rey nods in response. That all follows. “So why is he off living a life of comfort doing ... whatever it is he’s doing?”

There’s no malice in Finn’s words. Just confusion, and frustrations passed on from a Resistance that has suffered too many setbacks.

The truth is, Rey doesn’t know why. She hasn’t felt it her place to ask how Wedge ended up here. She’s still unclear what was between Wedge and Luke in the first place, and how Wedge went from rebuilding the Jedi to marrying the chancellor of the Republic to being here on this planet, maintaining an archive of Jedi and Rebellion history.

“I know he was looking after his wife. She was sick.” Mon Mothma had spent her last years ill and in need of care, and Wedge, as her partner, had provided the bulk of it. While she was alive, there was no thought of him leaving her to fight for anything, even if it was something he believed in. Rey thinks she understands that, even if she’s never found anyone she’d do it for.

“She died though, didn’t she?”

“She did.”

It’s Wedge’s reckoning to make, whether he returns to the fight. He seems to be happy with where he is, with what his place is in the Galaxy right now.

Finn shrugs. “As long as he’s treating you well, I don’t really care.”

Their conversation drifts and turns to other topics. Rey might be more focussed on matters of the Jedi right now, but she’s still curious about life in the Resistance. Poe ends up joining the conversation, as does Rose, and Rey loses herself in the distraction.

A knock on her door brings her out of it.

“Yes?” Rey says, signalling Wedge to come in. None of her friends will mind the interruption.

Wedge opens the door. “Hey Rey, just letting you know dinner’s ready, when you want to come down.” His eyes catch on her call and the three faces projected up. “I’ll keep a plate warm for you, I don’t want to keep you from your friends.”

“It’s okay, I think we were just finishing up,” Rey says. She knows Wedge will keep a plate for her—pile it twice as high as his own and let her go at the leftovers, too—but she likes the communal aspect of meal times as well. Usually someone from the archive will join them, staff or students, and it’s a nice occasion. “Everyone, you know Wedge.”

Finn, Rose and Poe wave.

Wedge, slightly bemused, waves back.

“Finn, Rose Tico, Poe Dameron.” Rey points them each out in turn, though she wonders if Wedge already knows who they all are.

“Hi,” Wedge says back. “Poe, how’s your father keeping these days?”

“Well, I think.” Poe sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I spoke to him.”

There’s a moment of silence—an awkwardness that permeates the room—and then Wedge ducks away. “Whenever you’re ready Rey,” he says, before turning and taking his leave.

Rey turns back to her friends. “I should go,” she says. “Dinner’s usually pretty good, I don’t want to miss it. I’ll speak to you all again soon, promise!” She takes some time to say her goodbyes properly, then turns the comm unit off.

She makes her way downstairs, to the dining room. Wedge and Hallis are seated already, and one of the students—Danni, if Rey remembers her name correctly—is hovering about, dishing herself up a plate. Rey grabs her own plate and sets to dishing herself up a mountain of food. Initially, she had some misgivings about how much she was supposed to eat, but Wedge had said that she was to eat her fill. She’d missed out on enough, there was no need for her to go short here.

She takes a seat at the table. By this point, Danni and Hallis are deep in a debate about some minor Rebellion skirmish, Wedge chipping in every so often with his point of view on the Battle of Atollon. Rey likes the noise, the company, as she eats.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a pale glimmer of blue. She casts her gaze in that direction to see Luke, watching, for just a moment before vanishing again.

It’s not the first time Rey has seen him, lurking around. He doesn’t seem able to let go. But for now, Luke’s behaviour is none of her concern. She’s safe and happy.

She will worry about him another time.

* * *

“You feeling up for a deep dive into Jedi history today?” Wedge asks Rey over breakfast. He’s been for his morning run, Rey’s spent half an hour in meditation, and it seems like a good a day as any to get stuck into the archive.

The only reason why he hasn’t introduced her to it yet is because he didn’t want to overwhelm her. It had taken him and Luke years to assemble the collection of artefacts. Rey has had enough weight pressed on her shoulders; she deserves a chance to process what she already knows first.

There’s also the fact that, whilst Rey is whip-smart, her formal education is lacking even more that Luke’s had been. Her knowledge of Galactic history is patchy at best. There are objects in the archive that do make more sense in their historical context, and that’s unavoidable.

Wedge believes in a rounder education and, as such, Rey has been enrolled in some basic classes.

“If I have an entire day on Jedi history, do I get to count that as credit towards my ‘History and Downfall of the Republic’ class?”

Wedge laughs. “I think I could sign off on some bonus marks.” He scoops some fruit into a bowl for himself, then makes a second and places it directly in front of Rey. Rey, who has just polished off the last of a bowl of porridge and two slices of toast, grabs for it. “And I promise a decent lunch break.”

It’s another hour before they’re ready to make the short walk over to the archive building. Wedge spends ten minutes with Hallis. He gets up to speed on the goings on of the day, verifying that nothing needed his attention. When that’s done, he takes Rey and heads towards the basement.

He unlocks the door and heads down the dark stairs. At the bottom, he flicks on the light switch and beckons for Rey to follow. Her eyes fall on the crates and shelves, taking in the wealth of knowledge Wedge has stored safely away.

“The Jedi were never going to end with Luke,” Wedge says. “And they won’t end with me, or with you. The history is preserved. A thousand years from now, with any luck, anyone who is curious will be able to learn the ways of the Force. That was always my hope.”

There had been a time when Wedge had had a lot of hopes of how a new generation of Jedi would come into their powers.

Most of those hopes were dashed twenty years ago.

But now, everything is different.

He watches Rey take it all in. A thousand emotions cross her face: shock; wonder; and then, relief. Wedge has told her she wasn’t alone in this, but seeing the legacy of the Jedi in front of her finally makes it sink in. The Jedi Order of old doesn’t need rebuilding. That work has been done. Her task is to take the past and mould it into something new, be the first of an entirely new generation.

Wedge, Leia, Luke—they were once the hopes for a new era, a new golden age. As the years go by, Wedge has realised that they are not that new era. They are the bridge to it, channelling what’s needed, passing on the knowledge so folks like Rey can take on the baton and build a new Galaxy on the foundations they laid.

Wedge moves into the archive, to where the holocrons sit. He pulls a silver blue pyramid from the shelf, takes it back to Rey. “This is a holocron. There’s a message in here I think you should see.” He hands it to her. “I can’t open it—you need the Force. Breathe, and just try.”

Rey closes her eyes.

She breathes.

And the holo unit lights up.

Out of it comes the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It’s been years since Wedge last heard it, but the memory of it comes back as clear as day. After the war, after Endor, when Wedge has declared his intentions to go with Luke and see what could be uncovered of the Jedi, Hera Syndulla had approached him. She’d passed on the holocron and it’s history. Wedge had sat with Luke as Luke unlocked it. He can only imagine what it was like to receive the message as a padawan, to have felt the deaths of all your comrades and then be told to hide for your own good.

“—We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere and, in time, I believe a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you always.”

“I know that voice,” Rey says, entirely unexpectedly. “He spoke to me. When I picked up the lightsaber, in Maz’s castle, I had a vision. That voice... he told me that these were my first steps.”

Obi-Wan had faded, in the years Wedge travelled with Luke. Wedge never met him, never spoke to him, but Luke would report things. Luke spoke to his mentor occasionally, asked questions about some artefact or text they’d found, but those occasions became rarer over the years. Wedge had assumed Obi-Wan had moved on.

Apparently, he still had some concerns over what happened on this mortal plane.

“He was Luke’s first master. A general, in the Clone Wars. You know, I think there’s at least one lesson on him in your Republic history unit. This was the message that he sent out when the Republic fell. A warning, to all Jedi.”

“How’d it end up with you?” Rey asks. She glances around the archive, looking at the array of artefacts.

Wedge sees her wonder, knowing the question is less about this artefact that the entire collection. “This one was a gift. We got given a fair amount, objects people knew had significance even if they didn’t know what they were. Some, we found.” Wedge moves and takes another object off the shelf. “Luke and I found this on in the mud flats on Estori’s fifth moon. We’re still not sure if it was buried intentionally or lost.”

The time passes quickly in the archive. Wedge and Rey break for lunch with Hallis before diving back in, Wedge leaving Rey to explore a little on her own, be guided by her own instincts through the collection.

When they emerge, the sun is sinking in the sky. Wedge sends Rey on a run around the lake, knowing that the change of pace is good for her. Wedge stands there, breathing in the fresh air, and lets the weight of all that history slip away from him.

He watches Rey as she returns. She’s slowed to a walk.

“I have a question,” she says.

Wedge has endeavoured to answer any question she has that he can, and he doesn’t intend to stop now. “Yes?”

“Why you?”

Wedge can’t help the amused smile that crosses his face, the slight lift of the eyebrows. Why him indeed. “I think the Galaxy has a sense of humour about it, leaving the secrets of the Jedi Order in the hands of a dumb force-null pilot,” he answers her. But even as he says it, he knows it’s not the answer she’s truly looking for.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and looks out across the lake, taking in the fading light.

“The truth is, I always knew Luke couldn’t make it on his own. It was too much for one man. And I’d made a promise, to the Galaxy, to myself, to never willingly let him face anything alone.”

“You loved him.” Rey’s tone isn’t accusing, but there isn’t a question in it either. She seems to have only just figured it out and yet, she knows it to be true.

Wedge turns to Rey. “Yes.” To be honest, for all Luke’s mistakes... there’s a part of Wedge that loves him still. That always has, since that very first meeting on Yavin. “That was a big part of why I went with him. We’d spent the last year of the war being separated, and I decided that I didn’t want to be apart. If that meant helping Luke uncover Jedi secrets... it meant helping Luke uncover Jedi secrets. Turned out to be not so bad at it, in the end.”

Those ten years they’d spent together, they’d been good. Wedge doesn’t regret a moment.

“So what happened? How’d you end up here, and Luke there?”

It’s a fair question: if things had been so good, how’d they go so wrong? It had been something Wedge had pondered himself.

“We had a disagreement. About how we went forward, how we passed on the knowledge.” That has been rough. Wedge had loved Luke for almost fifteen years at that point, thought that that would be his entire life, and then it had all changed. “It fell apart. We weren’t right for each other anymore. I took up Rebellion history, put the skills I’d learnt with Luke to good use. I found Mon. We built our life together.”

And it had been a good life.

“Do you regret it?” Rey asks.

Rey is staring down her own choices, Wedge knows that. He’s determined to give her space so she can make them wisely. “No,” Wedge says. “There are things I wish had happened differently. But I know they were beyond my control. All the choices I made... I’d make them again.”

Wedge learnt very early on in the Rebellion that you couldn’t second guess a choice. The thought of what might have been would tear you up inside. And he’s thought about those choices, on the long and lonely nights, and knows he made the right ones, even if they’d been hard.

Rey considers this for a moment. “Okay,” she says. “Dinner?”

Relieved, Wedge can only nod. “Let’s get dinner.”


	4. Chapter 4

Rey settles into life at the archive pretty quickly, in the end.

Her general education continues under the tutelage of Wedge and Hallis. Wedge offers his version Jedi training. Part-history, part-practical, it’s more comprehensive than anything Luke offered Rey.

Rey catches Luke’s ghost watching them sometimes. She wonders if she’s seeing things at first, but she’s not. He’ll appear on the edge of the forrest in the early morning light, as she and Wedge move through exercises and lightsaber forms. She’ll catch him out of the corner of her eye when they’re in a study room in the archive building.

It takes her three weeks to realise he’s not watching her. He’s not tracking her, or wanting to ensure that Rey is upholding the Jedi legacy the way he thinks is right. It’s nothing like that. He’s watching Wedge.

He watches with regret. He watches with longing and with yearning, with the desire to reach out and touch Wedge. He watches like a man completely caught in Wedge’s orbit, endlessly circling him but destined never to touch him. Rey has never seen a man so captivated and yet so lost.

Luke and Wedge had been in love once, but it was over. At least, it was on Wedge’s side. He’d married someone else, after all. Someone who he clearly loved dearly. He’d told Rey he had no regrets over the choices he made.

The same cannot be said of Luke.

Wedge has told Rey stories about the man he knew. The Luke he describes is so very different to the man she met. Rey cannot imagine that Luke does not have regrets over the choices he made.

One morning, after she’s finished her training sequence, she stays out while Wedge disappears off to sort things.

“Don’t you disappear after him,” she says, to the air, to Luke’s ghost who she knows is lurking out the corner of her eye. “I want to talk to you, Luke.”

With a sigh, Luke steps from the trees to sit cross-legged in front of her. “What about?” he asks. “You don’t need me any more. Wedge seems to have everything covered.”

“And yet you’re still here,” Rey points out.

Luke doesn’t have anything to say to that. He wriggles, attempting to get comfy, settle into a meditative stance rather than answer Rey’s question.

“I know it’s not for me. It’s for Wedge.” Rey watches Luke flinch. He tries to hide it, but it’s there. “You don’t get to do that, you know. You can’t sweep back in to his life. You’re dead. You lost your chance twenty years ago when you left him.”

Luke’s face turns into a frown, brows furrowing. “I didn’t leave him. He left me,” he says, confused at the version of events Rey is portraying.

“I find that hard to believe. Wedge is kind and devoted and you have a history of running away when life gets hard.”

Luke threads a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He shakes his head, once, firmly, then clarifies: “He was the one to leave. It was his call.”

“You had a disagreement,” Rye says, remembering what Wedge had told her.

“Yes. The worst fight we’ve ever had.”

“About the future of the Jedi.”

“It wasn’t Wedge’s place to decide things about how I rebuilt the Jedi. That was my task, my burden to bear. So I thought.” Luke looks pained. He might have thought it was the right choice at the time but now, he’s reconsidered.

Rey cocks her head. “What did you actually fight about?”

“I thought the Jedi Academy should be open to everyone.” The way Luke says it makes it sound fair enough, like that’s a good thing, but Rey waits for Wedge’s objection. “Wedge refused to train kids. He said that it had done me no harm, training as an adult. That our students could come to us as adults, who could make their own choices.”

“He refused to train children to be soldiers.”

Luke makes a face. Rey can tell he wants to dispute the words she uses, reframe them, say that the Jedi weren’t and aren’t soldiers. But he doesn’t. “It was the way of the Jedi in the Republic and it felt like the right choice, to me. For Wedge, it was unthinkable. We argued for a week straight. I resented the fact that he was telling me how to run the Jedi Order I was building, he was horrified that I’d even think about training kids to fight.”

Luke ducks his head. He’s ashamed. “It took me years to work out I was wrong. I was the one who should have compromised about it. By that time, Wedge had moved on, built a life for himself that didn’t involve me. I didn’t want to mess that up.” Luke worries at his hair, taking a moment to think about the consequences of his actions. “By the time I realised that I was still in love with him, that I was always going to be in love with him, Mon was ill.”

Luke looks back up at Rey. “I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but I wasn’t about to try and take Wedge away from a dying woman.”

“And now?” Rey asks.

“I’m dead, as you oh-so-kindly pointed out earlier. I made my choices and I’ve got to live with them no matter that I’d go back and change them if I could.” Luke turns his head towards the house, towards Wedge. “I still love him. That hasn’t changed. I just haven’t worked out what it means yet.”

What does it mean? Luke can’t offer Wedge anything. There’s no reunion waiting for them. Luke used up the last of his life in saving the Resistance, saving his sister. He can’t go back and undo that, and Wedge would never love a Luke who would. Rey doesn’t understand what Luke thinks he’s going to get out of this.

But, she understands as she looks at him, neither has Luke. Luke is battling against a galaxy who has decided that he has to stick around. He’s trying to find a purpose, a place for all those feelings he holds inside of him.

“It means what you and Wedge want it to mean,” Rey replies, the most honest answer she can think of. If Wedge wants something from Luke, that’s his choice to make. But considering he left Luke, married someone else, someone he’s still mourning—is it even something Wedge would want? She doesn’t think so, but she isn’t Wedge. “It’s up to you to fix it. It’s up to him to accept your apology.”

Luke nods.

He stands, awkward, half-corporeal, wondering what to do with himself. It’s clear that he doesn’t have anything else to say on the subject, still turning it over for himself.

“Would you like to walk through the kata Wedge is teaching you? He’s good, but he can’t do it as a force user would.”

Rey gives Luke a sceptical look. He wants to change the topic. But the offer for help is genuine, she can tell. He’s not trying to usurp Wedge’s place as teacher, just offering to expand where the limits of his skill set are reached. “Yes,” Rey says. “I’d like that.”

* * *

Three months later, Wedge reads through the latest bit of schoolwork Rey has produced and thinks that she’s making good progress.

It was the right choice to try and give her a broader skill set then Jedi, he thinks. He’s seen her confidence grow in all of her abilities, a roundness coming to her character now that she understands that she isn’t just a scavenger, or a Jedi, that she does not have to have the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. There are other paths for her. For the first time in her life, there’s more to each day than the next day’s survival.

It’s a pleasant day. Wedge is working outside, enjoying the sunshine. Over across the field he can see Rey, training through a sequence of moves with the Skywalker lightsaber. She’s tried others from the selection that Wedge has, but that one still suits her best. As Wedge watches, she pauses every so often to talk to someone Wedge can’t see.

Wedge isn’t sure, but he thinks Luke is still around. He hasn’t pressed Rey about it. It’s her decision to give Luke a second chance to train her, and Wedge has always been honest about the limitations of his own abilities. He is no Jedi. He checks his communication messages, and finds that one he sent out three weeks ago has finally reached its destination—but there’s no reply yet.

Gathering his things, Wedge walks from his perch to his house. He waves at Rey when he passes her. He wonders if Luke sees it. There’s no way for him to tell. Wedge is force-null; he doesn’t get that privilege.

Back inside his house, Wedge fixes himself a mug of caf, grabs a square slice of cake out of the container—there are two more left in it, and Rey will have eaten them by the next time Wedge looks—and settles himself into his armchair. It’s comfortable there. In his line of sight is the wedding holograph that was taken of him and Mon, shining bright as always.

That was a good day.

Wedge reaches for the holo-projector, then into the drawer of the table, looking for a holo-chip. He swaps it, and the holograph of him and Mon is replaced by a different set of pictures.

Luke.

Luke’s image comes spilling out. There’s holographs from the days of Rebellion, one commemorating the commissioning of Rogue Squadron, Wedge and Luke looking so young. The bulk of them come from the ten year period they were together, each one imbued with the memories. Wedge has a few holographs from after, mostly ones passed onto the archive for official purposes.

Wedge wasn’t sentimental during the rebellion: there wasn’t space for it. But he’s becoming so, in his old age. As an archivist, he’s meant to keep stuff, see the value in it. The X-Wing he flew in the war is onsite right now, kept as an exhibit rather than a working ship but Wedge still finds himself going over there just to sit in the cockpit and think. There are so many things of Mon’s that Wedge can’t bring himself to let go of: her wedding dress hanging in the wardrobe is one thing, but her nightgowns and everyday dresses are still tucked away in a drawer, as if she might come back for them.

Wedge wishes he could have spoken to Luke, just one last time.

But he didn’t. He chose not to go after Luke. The massacre at the Temple had coincided with Mon taking a turn for the worse. Wedge had been so focused on her, on trying to give her as many more good days as he could that what was going on with Luke was none of his concern. By the time he’d had a moment to worry about what happened, Luke had been missing for three years. And even then Wedge hadn’t gone, too wrapped up in his grief for Mon and trying to work out what his life was now. He’d always figured they’d have more time.

They didn’t.

Wedge’s musings are interrupted by the appearance of Rey. Wedge looks up to find her standing in the doorway, staring at the cycling holographs.

“You miss him,” she says, sounding surprised.

“Yes,” Wedge admits. “I always figured I’d get to speak to him again.”

Rey ponders for a moment. Her eyes lock onto the holograph currently on display; Wedge, utterly caught in Luke’s orbit, laughing at something Luke had said. “Would you like to speak to him again, if you could?” Her words are cautious.

Wedge looks up. A little bit of hope rises in his chest, even as he knows it’s impossible. “Yes,” he says. “There were things I didn’t say, and I should have said them.”

Rey closes her eyes. She focuses for a moment, concentrating hard. Reaching and tugging at the strings of the Force, pulling something out. Wedge can’t tell the moment everything changes, but Rey can. She turns her head to the side. “He wants to talk to you,” Rey says, presumably to Luke, who Wedge can’t see. Her face turns into a frown at the response given. She curses under her breath. “Just try,” she adds.

Wedge doesn’t know what to do. Does he just start speaking and believe that Luke will hear him? Is there worth to words that he might not get a response to? Wedge can talk to the dead just fine on his own.

Just as he’s doubting this entire plan, he sees a shimmer. It takes several long moments to form into something, and even then it’s pale, transparent and barely there.

“Luke,” Wedge says the name on the exhale of a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. Luke is standing before him, like a miracle.

“Wedge?” Luke’s voice is nervous, like he doesn’t know if he’ll be heard or not. But Wedge hears him.

“I can hear you.” Wedge can hear his own voice shake. “I can see you, Luke.” Wedge steps out his armchair, reaching for Luke. His hand goes straight through the ghost of Luke’s hand, though. But he can see Luke, hear him. That’s enough.

“Wedge.” Luke says his name and imbues it with such meaning. And just for a second, Wedge can feel a warm hand pressed against his own. It sends a spark through him, that connection between them that has never faded. “Oh Wedge. I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Wedge asks, a genuine question. It’s not that there’s nothing for Luke to apologise for—there are many things, in fact. Some of them perhaps are worth apologising for, but Wedge isn’t interested in that right now. And Luke doesn’t need to shoulder the blame for everything that’s gone wrong in the Galaxy.

“For letting you leave. For being so damn stubborn. For dying before I had a chance to make any of that up to you.”

“From what I hear, you saved the Resistance,” Wedge says. “I think that was worth the sacrifice. And the rest of it? Well...” Wedge gives Luke the fondest look. “If I’d stayed, I’d have never married Mon. And I loved her Luke. I can’t imagine not having that in my life.” Wedge wants so much to reach out and touch Luke, reassure with touch where words won’t do, but he can’t. “And besides, you’re here now. That’s enough.”

Luke softens under Wedge’s words. It’s clear to Wedge that Luke didn’t think it would be enough, to just be here.

“Come, sit.” Wedge gestures at the sofa. He suspects it won’t make any difference to Luke, but he’ll feel better seated. Less risk of his legs falling out from under him. As he sits, he notices Rey slip away, leaving the two old men to it.

And they talk. They talk. Wedge asks about life on Ahch-To, the contrast between the man Rey had described and the one who is here now as clear as night and day. Luke asks what Wedge has been doing over the years, about Mon, how Wedge has handled the grief. They talk about Rey, and how the future already feels so much brighter with her leading the way.

In the end, they only stop when Rey pokes her head around the door, curious, pointing out the time and asking if Wedge is going to be making dinner or if she should fend for herself. And as much as Wedge could talk to Luke for hours more, it’s clear that the sustained effort to remain on the physical plane, visible to Wedge, is taking its toll.

So dinner it is.

“I’ll see you again, right?” Wedge asks, looking at Luke. “Don’t be a stranger. You are always welcome here.” He wants to make it clear that Luke can come back, that Wedge welcomes every way Luke could still be in his life.

“I’ll try,” Luke says.

And then Wedge has an armful of Luke, solid for one glorious moment, arms wrapped around Wedge. Wedge clings back, an arm around Luke’s waist and a hand in his hair, burying his face into the crook of Luke’s neck, embracing the man who he had thought completely lost to him. Soft lips press against Wedge’s jaw and then Luke is gone, the effort of being physical too much to sustain.

Wedge touches fingers to the spot where Luke had kissed him, lingering in the feeling.

He hadn’t asked Luke what his feelings were; they’d both sidestepped that question. But the want bubbles up inside him, just as clearly as it had thirty-five years ago when they first met.

When Wedge breaks himself out of it, he finds Rey watching him. Her expression is curious, not quite sure what to make of what’s between him and Luke.

“You said something about food?” he says, and moves on, resolving to work out what he feels about Luke later.


	5. Chapter 5

When Rey opens her eyes in the middle of her meditation session, taking a moment to get her bearings, she finds Luke sat before her, mirroring her position.

“If you’re looking for Wedge,” she says, a little frustrated that Luke’s here, “he’s with Mon right now, so you better not disturb him.”

“I know,” Luke replies. “I can wait for him.”

Since that first meeting between Wedge and Luke, Rey knows they’ve spoken half a dozen times. It takes it out of Luke, being present like that, and it seems to take it out of Wedge too. He’s pensive after talking to Luke, almost always disappearing off in the evening to spend some time by Mon’s grave.

It is, however, none of Rey’s business. It’s Wedge’s decision if he wants to pursue something with Luke, as much as Rey might think it’s a bad idea.

“I wouldn’t interrupt him when he’s talking to Mon,” Luke says. “I know how much he misses her.”

“She was his wife.” It’s obvious enough to Rey: Mon Mothma is the person Wedge chose to marry, not Luke. He picked her over him. Maybe Wedge does have feelings for Luke; Rey still thinks they pale in comparison to what he felt for Mon. It’s Mon’s possessions that still lie in the house, treasures that Wedge can’t bring himself to get rid of, not Luke’s.

Rey closes her eyes again, hoping to get back to what she was doing, and resolves to ignore him.

“She misses him too,” Luke comments, and Rey’s eyes snap wide open.

“How the hell do you know that?”

Rey knows that Luke exists between the two planes, able to speak to the living and the dead as his energy allows. He’s spoken to his parents, his old mentor, friends. They’ve helped shape him into a softer, kinder man than the one she knew on Ahch-To.

But there is no good reason for him to be speaking to the dead wife of the love of his life. None.

“We’ve talked. In passing. Mon Mothma was a friend of my mother’s—they were in the Republic Senate together.”

“Well don’t talk to her again,” Rey says.

Luke tilts his head. “I don’t think you get to have a say in that.”

“No. I don’t. But Wedge almost certainly does.” Rey pushes herself to her feet, stepping away from Luke, giving up on her meditation. “And you can’t ask him about it because it would break his heart.”

“He loved her, he’d want to—”

“He _loves_ her. Still.” Rey intends the words to hurt Luke, and they hit their mark. He flinches. “You don’t see him, day-in, day-out, still half trapped in grief. You’ve already disrupted the process of him grieving for you enough by still being here, you don’t get to disrupt his grieving for Mon. Anything you tell him about her would just be a shadow, a reminder of what he can’t have. I know you still wield a lot of power, but you can’t bring her back to him.”

Rey turns on Luke. To her relief, he looks chastened.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Luke says. “Rey, I never want to hurt him again.”

“So don’t do stupid things like talking to the woman he loves! Something that he can’t do!”

Suddenly, Rey sees that Luke gets it. He gets why this would upset Wedge so much. Wedge would want to be the one to speak to her, himself, with no one between them. Knowing she was out there to be spoken to would bring him no solace; he already knows that. It would just make the fact that he can’t worse. “I can’t stop her asking me things about him,” he says, finally. “But I won’t seek her out, and I won’t mention it to Wedge. Not unless he specifically asks after her.”

It’s all the promise Rey wants from Luke; that he’ll give Wedge and Mon their agency back. Luke isn’t the one who gets to make those decisions: they do.

“That’s fair enough,” Rey says.

In the distance, she spots Wedge, walking back towards the archive.

“I know he wants you back in his life,” she continues to Luke, in the moments before Wedge returns. “But if you break his heart, you’ll answer to me. I won’t let you rest in peace.”

To her surprise, Luke smiles. “If I break his heart again, I’ll deserve it.”

.

Wedge gets the message about the incoming ship and escort from air traffic control a full-half hour before the ships are visible in the sky above the archive.

He’s sparring with Rey at that point, lightsabers flashing as she parries his attacks. She keeps her attention on him, not missing a blow, but she’s still curious about the small freighter and its solitary X-Wing escort. As she fights Wedge, she follows the ships out the corner of her eye as they come down to land neatly beside the archive building.

The X-Wing is clearly not a Republic or Resistance ship: the entire thing is painted green. The freighter is old, battered, and if one looks closely enough you can see the faded, scratched off livery of the Crimson Dawn syndicate that hasn’t quite been covered by the coat of paint the ship probably received five years back.

“You have guests?” Rey asks, angling her head at the ships.

“We have guests,” Wedge replies, stowing his lightsaber blade. “Come on, you should meet them.”

He guides her over. The X-Wing pilot has already hopped out his ship. He’s a man Wedge’s age, dark hair faded to grey entirely at the temples, with a goatee. There’s a lightsaber on his belt that immediately catches Rey’s attention. Wedge’s guests—they must be force users.

“Hey Wedge!” the X-Wing pilot shouts across the field, waving his hand to attract their attention.

“Good to see you, Corran!” Wedge replies. “You managed to make it?”

“We got caught up in the Unknown Regions, sorry.” Corran Horn turns to Rey, appraising her in a single glance. “And you must be Rey. Nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand for Rey to shake.

She doesn’t take it, regarding him with a degree of wariness. “Who are you?”

“Sorry, my fault, didn’t want to mention it in case you couldn’t make it.” Wedge holds up his hands in apology. “Rey, this is Corran Horn, Jedi Master, and former Rogue Squadron pilot. He’s a friend.”

“I’m his brother-in-law,” Corran adds, correcting Wedge whilst shaking Rey’s hand. “Well. Depending on how you look at it.”

“Jedi Master?” Rey queries, more curious about that than the exact nature of his relation to Wedge.

“Might be pushing it,” Corran replies. “I’m no Luke Skywalker. But I know a trick or two.”

“Just don’t ask him to lift any rocks,” a female voice interjects. From the battered freighter a young blonde woman emerges, barefoot. She’s followed by a young man her age, with sandy brown hair. Both of them have lightsabers on their belts.

“Apparently, telekinesis doesn’t run in the Horn family,” the man adds, a wicked smile on his face.

Corran shakes his head, but it’s fond. “Rey, let me introduce Tahiri Veila and Anakin Solo, Jedi Knights.”

Rey’s eyebrows raise. “Solo? Like Han Solo?”

“Not exactly,” Anakin replies. “It’s a long story. My mother and Han grew up together on Corellia.”

“And then his mother ended up running a major crime syndicate under the tutelage of a Sith,” Tahiri adds.

“Yes, well. We can’t help who our parents are.” Anakin shrugs. “I needed a name and I wanted to piss her off, so. Figured that would do it. Anyway, not here to talk about that.”

“We figured you could benefit from a bit more practical experience of the Force,” Tahiri says. “Wedge is, well, perfectly nice and all—“

“—but I’m force null as a brick and we all know it,” Wedge finishes. “There are some things that only a Force user can show you, so I figured I’d call in some friends.”

Rey looks at the three Jedi stood before her. “You’re Jedi,” Rey says, astonished. She turns to Wedge. “There are other Jedi?”

“It’s not just us,” Tahiri says. “The Temple may have fallen, the Academy burnt, but the teachings and the Force live on.”

“You’re not alone in this, Rey,” Wedge tells her. “You never were.”

Rey blinks for a moment, seemingly holding back tears, and then suddenly pulls Wedge in for a hug, arms tight around his waist. Wedge hugs her back, hoping he did the right thing. Ever since he met Rey, he’s tried to do the right thing for her.

A third set of arms joins the hug, a sandy brown head resting against Rey’s. It’s joined by a blonde one as Tahiri takes her place at the other side of Rey. Corran watches the group for a moment, considering before joining in.

Afterwards—after some discussion with Tahiri, Anakin and Corran about what Rey feels she actually needs—Rey sets off to spar with Tahiri and Anakin, leaving Corran to catch up with Wedge.

Wedge remembers a trip home—for Ben’s first birthday, he thinks—when Tycho Celchu had pulled him aside and told him that he suspected one of Rogue Squadron’s latest recruits was Force sensitive. Luke hadn’t exactly been up to training anyone then, and Corran hadn’t been particularly interested. He’d been one of the first students at Luke’s academy though, part of that mismatched first class full of people Luke had encountered over the years. But after that, he’d come home, married Mirax Terrik—who was practically Wedge’s sister in everything but blood—and resumed his life as a New Republic pilot.

They’d settled into a friendship, albeit a slightly awkward one, where they both felt like they ought to know each other better than they did. There was a lot of history shared between them, but they’d tended to miss each other in their particular parts of it.

Still. Corran isn’t the only Jedi who survived the massacre at the Academy, and the Knights of Ren’s subsequent vendetta. Wedge could have called in anyone. But Corran and his students; that felt like the right choice.

“You know she’s ready,” Corran says, breaking up Wedge’s ramble about the Jedi history he’s been showing to Rey. “I don’t know what you think we can teach her. She’s the finest student I’ve ever met. Why hasn’t she gone back to the Resistance?”

Wedge hates to admit it, but Corran is right. Anything Wedge has left to teach her—well, they aren’t things she needs to know. But Wedge thinks that there’s still worth to knowing that there’s somewhere warm to come home too, where there’s food on the table. He wants Rey to go back because she wants to, not because she feels it’s her duty.

And that’s a fair answer. He objectively wants the best for Rey.

But the truth is, Wedge isn’t sure he’s ready to let her go. She’s wormed her way under his skin, into his heart. The thought of losing her is too much to bear.

“Ah,” Corran says, without Wedge putting anything into words. “You’re such a dad.” He gives Wedge a friendly shove on the shoulder, teasing.

“She needs someone to look out for her, someone who puts her interests ahead of the Galaxy’s.”

“You’re not wrong. Might be getting a little over protective though?”

Wedge shrugs, resigned to his feelings. “Can you blame me? I’ve lost enough recently.”

“Luke?” Corran asks, knowing the history there.

“He’s still about,” Wedge says. “Just like Obi-Wan Kenobi was, in the last war. A Force ghost. We’ve spoken. I just—” Wedge falters off. wondering how much he says. But if he doesn’t talk about it to Corran, who else is there? He can’t exactly put this on Rey. “I don’t know where we stand. He’s dead, but—”

“But there’s still something there? And you’re worried about betraying Mon.” Corran fills in the rest for him. “She’d want you to be happy. Pretty sure she said it, too.” Corran isn’t wrong. Mon had told him to find love again; told him to go after Luke. She hadn’t known that Luke was missing. “I don’t know how to work around the Force Ghost thing, but you’re nothing if not stubborn. You’ll work it out. And learn to let Rey go. Trust that she knows that she can always come back to you, that she has a home here.”

Wedge looks at Rey, laughing with Tahiri as Anakin is sprawled on his back in the grass, knocked over in the course of sparring. She shines so bright.

Corran’s right. He has to trust her.

“Alright,” Wedge concedes. “But also, whether you teach her anything or not—your presence is good for her. She needs to know that there are other Jedi out there. She needs to know she’s not alone.”

“She’s not,” Corran nods his head, agreeing. “She’s got you. She’ll never stand alone again.”


	6. Chapter 6

Rey leaves to go back to the Resistance on a fine autumn day. It’s been six months since she first arrived at the Archive, six months put to good use developing her skills.

Her bag is carefully packed with the possessions she’s acquired whilst she’s been here. There’s a new lightsaber, double-ended, resembling the staff she was so familiar with. It had been built with the help of Tahiri and Anakin, who had brought along Kyber crystals, just to see if Rey could build herself something that suited her more than the Skywalker lightsaber.

She has the Skywalker lightsaber too. It is a fine weapon, and keeping it is worth it to deny Kylo Ren.

The Jedi Techs Rey rescued from Ahch-To are staying with Wedge; they’re safer with him. They’ve been making progress on translating them, and Rey has digitised copies with her for reference.

In her pocket is an identity card. Wedge had given her the datawork for it weeks ago. It makes her a citizen of Breshva III, and with it the Republic. But the card also identifies her as a member of Wedge’s archival network, with the neutrality and diplomatic privilege that will stand her in good stead on most worlds she tries to visit. And it means she will always be able to come home here.

The name on the card is Rey Antilles. Rey had spent a little while pondering over that. She’d thought about putting no last name at all. She’d thought about using Solo; she wouldn’t be the only one out there to adopt it. She’d thought about Organa, or Skywalker, or Dameron, or Tico—all of her friends would gladly let her take their name. But this one feels right.

When she’d handed the datawork back to Wedge, he’d taken one look at it and asked if she was sure. She was. He’d hugged her there and then, too overwhelmed with emotion to put it into words.

They’re family now. Rey will always have a home and someone who cares for her to return to, outside of the Resistance. When the war ends, there’s going to be a place for her.

She takes one last look around the guest room at Wedge’s house—her room. It’s been a good home to her these past months. But the Resistance needs her; the Galaxy needs her. When the First Order has been beaten back so they are nothing but ash beneath Rey’s feet, then she can come back here.

Rey hefts her bag downstairs. Outside, the Millennium Falcon is already waiting for her. The gangway is lowered. She can see Chewbacca inspecting the underbelly of the ship as he waits, and there are two humans besides him.

“Finn!” Rey yells in delight, causing him to turn. Once he’s spotted her, he’s running towards her and they meet in a gangly pile of limbs, hugging, Finn lifting Rey just off her feet. “How have you been?” she asks when he puts her back down.

“Not so bad,” Finn replies. “Considering the circumstances. You ready to go?”

“Almost,” Rey says. “I need to say goodbye to Wedge first.”

“He could always come with us,’ Poe interjects. Poe looks more worn than Finn does, with more responsibilities weighing on his shoulders. “The Resistance needs men like him.”

Rey extended the offer; Wedge has already declined it. It’s not that he doesn’t support the Resistance; rather, he knows where he is best placed to serve the Galaxy and it isn’t in a Starfighter cockpit any longer.

Rey shakes her head. “There are other ways for him to serve the Resistance. He’s staying here.”

Besides, Mon is buried here; Rey doesn’t think Wedge will ever leave her, not unless he’s forced to.

Rey walks over to the archive building. Hallis Saper is already standing outside, waiting for her. “He’s coming,” Hallis says. “He never was very good at goodbyes.”

Rey busies herself with saying goodbye to Hallis whilst she waits for Wedge. Hallis has been good to her too, helping with the classes Rey’s taken, always there to offer a friendly word and generally balance Wedge out.

Finally, Wedge appears. He’s got oil marks on his shirt, which means he’s probably spend the morning buried in his antique X-Wing rather than face the fact that Rey has to leave. “You’re off?”

Rey nods. “Falcon’s all loaded up and ready to go. I’d invite you to have a look, but I think Poe might try and steal you back to the Resistance.”

Wedge smiles. “Eh. I’d manage. Get to say hello to a few old friends if he did. But my place is here, and I know that.”

“You better stay in touch though.”

“I’ll always be on the end of the line if you need me, Rey. For anything at all.”

Rey nods. The tears are bubbling up behind her eyes now, threatening to spill out. Wedge has been so good to her. She couldn’t have asked for more. She’s come into her own under his watchful eye. No longer just the scavenger from Jakku, or the girl who wanted so desperately to become a Jedi. She is a warrior now, confident of her place in all this.

She steps forward, almost blind, barrelling into him. He catches her and holds her close. His breathing is just as unsteady as hers, tears just as close to the surface.

“Thank you—”

She hesitates, wondering if the next word she wants to say is welcome. For he might not have found her parents; he looked, but all his attempts turned up blank. But he put in the effort and in everything else he did he became her family.

“—Dad.”

Wedge’s breath catches, a sob only just restrained. He pulls back, looking her over. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Rey beams back at him, revelling in her choice. “I want to.”

He cries, openly, hugging her close once again. Rey embraces the warmth that she feels, safe with him. Eventually, they say their goodbyes, and Rey boards the Falcon. She watches Wedge and Hallis wave as they take off, disappear into pinpricks as Chewie takes them into the atmosphere.

“Alright,” she says to Finn and Poe, realigning her priorities. “How do we take down the First Order?”

* * *

The evening comes around faster than Wedge would like. He cooks too much for dinner, too used to Rey eating at least two people’s worth of food. Hallis doesn’t comment on it, just reaches for additional storage boxes and puts the contents in the ice chest.

He misses Rey. He misses Mon. He misses Luke.

Rey will come back, at least. She’ll call, and when the war is over, Wedge hopes she’ll come home. Mon is lost to him. And Luke? Wedge still isn’t sure where he stands with Luke.

After dinner, Wedge steps out, on a walk that ends where it always does, by Mon’s grave. He settles into his customary spot. The light of the day is waning, sun setting into a rich, deep pink, light reflecting off the lake. It’s beautiful.

“So, I have a daughter now,” Wedge says to Mon. He’d been amazed enough when Rey had taken his name, marking them as family. But she’d also called him dad, and Wedge was determined to be worthy of it. “Little Rey needed someone, and I guess I needed her too. It all worked out.”

Wedge spends almost an hour talking to Mon. He tells her about his day. About Rey. About all the thoughts going through his mind. As always, he feels better for it.

“I love you Mon. Always,” he finishes. She knows, she always knew, but he still needs to say it.

He stands up. The dusk has truly set in now, light faded away. Wedge steps towards home, knowing the way even without the light.

Someone falls in step beside him.

“She’d be so proud of you, if she could see you now,” Luke says.

Wedge stops. There’s a pain in his chest that Mon isn’t here to see this, isn’t here to know Rey. But it’s a dull ache, nothing sharp to it. He knows Luke’s words are true. Wedge has done what Mon wanted; continued to live his life, do good where he can, find people to share it with.

He’s even found Luke again.

Wedge smiles softly. “Yes. She would be.”

He looks over at Luke, dressed simply in brown and cream tunics, hair just long enough to curl over his ears the way it used to when he was just a boy. His beard is short but full, shot through with grey. There’s a contentedness about him now that Luke never grew into in life.

Wedge can see so clearly the man Luke would have been if things had gone differently, if they’d have grown old together.

A fondness wells up in him and Wedge has to avert his eyes, almost overcome by it. “I wasn’t—“ he starts, voice breaking off. “I didn’t know if I’d see you here, now that Rey’s gone.”

“I’m staying here, with you,” Luke says. “For as long as you want me here. Rey doesn’t need me; I don’t know if she ever did. This is where I belong.”

Luke leans over and takes Wedge’s hands. “I belong with you,” he adds, leaving no doubt about how he feels.

Wedge lifts his head, staring into Luke’s pale blue eyes. He feels Luke’s fingers in his; solid and warm. He’s had a lot of time to think about what he wants. And the truth is; he has always loved Luke. That has never gone away. He loved Mon more, in the time he was with her, but it hadn’t diminished what he’d felt for Luke.

Wedge curls his hands round Luke’s, pulling him close. Luke is so solid in this moment, so present. “Stay,” Wedge says. “For as long as I have left, as long as you can be here; I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And Wedge kisses Luke.

“I’ll be with you,” Luke says. “Always.”


	7. Epilogue

**40 years later**

Rey Antilles takes a deep steadying breath, leaning her weight onto her shovel. Her task is almost done.

There are three graves beside the lake now.

One doesn’t have much in. After Rey had left that first time, Wedge had gone to Ahch-To and collected the last of Luke’s possessions. He’d brought them back and buried them beside Mon’s grave, creating a resting place for Luke.

And now, forty years later, she was laying Wedge to rest beside the two great loves of his life.

Wedge had passed after a short illness. It shouldn’t have been unexpected, given his age—he’d outlived so many of his compatriots at that point—and yet the loss still hit Rey like a gut-punch. She understood his grief now, the grief he’d borne when she first knew him, better than she ever had before. She’d been there at the end and got to say her goodbyes to her father; then she’d watched as he slipped into the Force and the aftermath of all things.

She hopes he’s at peace now. He deserves it. He spent his life working so tirelessly to put good into the world. The galaxy was a better place for having had him in it.

She finishes covering the grave. A marker will go up tomorrow, so that anyone who comes visiting in the future will know who they’ve found. Wedge spent his life upholding the legacies of Luke Skywalker and Mon Mothma; Rey intends to make sure the galaxy knows about what Wedge Antilles did for it.

She turns her head towards the lake. It’s calm and still. When she turns her head back, there’s another figure besides the grave.

It’s been years since she saw Luke. The only reason she’d known he was still around was because Wedge had told her he still visited.

“Hello Rey,” he says.

“Is he at peace?” she asks, without any prelude or amble.

“He is. He’s with Mon now.”

“Is that okay with you?” Rey asks, knowing the depth of Luke’s feelings for Wedge.

“She loves him, I love him,” Luke says. He shrugs. “He loves both of us. That’s all that matters.”

Rey nods. She’d never understood it, but as long as Wedge was happy. “Be good to him,” she says.

“I will.”

Luke is fading, fainter than Rey has ever seen him. “Will I see you again?” she asks.

Luke looks down at himself. Even he can tell he’s barely present. “No, I don’t think so. I think my time here is done. I was just waiting for him. The legacy of the Jedi, such as it is... that lives in you now. Goodbye, Rey.”

“Goodbye, Luke.”

Luke slips away. The Galaxy has no Skywalkers left in it now, the line extinguished.

Rey turns and walks back to Wedge’s house, her house. He’d left everything to her; the land, the archive, the house, hers to do with as she wishes. She surveys it, remembering the hours she spent training on the open field.

It had been a good place to learn.

And, she resolves, it would be again. Rey has her own legacy to build. Time for her to pass on all she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Thanks for reading this little fic with me - I hope you've enjoyed it!


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